and must be gratified, though the Reviewers will make him suffer more tortures than there are in his original.  Indeed, the Notes are well worth publication; but he insists upon the translation for company, so that they will come out together, like Lady C * t chaperoning Miss *.  I read a letter of yours to him yesterday, and he begs me to write to you about his Poeshie.  He is really a good fellow, apparently, and I dare say that his verse is very good Irish.

“Now, what shall we do for him?  He says that he will risk part of the expense with the publisher.  He will never rest till he is published and abused—­for he has a high opinion of himself—­and I see nothing left but to gratify him, so as to have him abused as little as possible; for I think it would kill him.  You must write, then, to Jeffrey to beg him not to review him, and I will do the same to Gifford, through Murray.  Perhaps they might notice the Comment without touching the text.  But I doubt the dogs—­the text is too tempting. * *

     “I have to thank you again, as I believe I did before, for your
     opinion of ‘Cain,’ &c.

“You are right to allow ——­ to settle the claim; but I do not see why you should repay him out of your legacy—­at least, not yet.[68] If you feel about it (as you are ticklish on such points) pay him the interest now, and the principal when you are strong in cash; or pay him by instalments; or pay him as I do my creditors—­that is, not till they make me.

     “I address this to you at Paris, as you desire.  Reply soon, and
     believe me ever, &c.

“P.S.  What I wrote to you about low spirits is, however, very true.  At present, owing to the climate, &c. (I can walk down into my garden, and pluck my own oranges,—­and, by the way, have got a diarrhoea in consequence of indulging in this meridian luxury of proprietorship,) my spirits are much better.  You seem to think that I could not have written the ‘Vision,’ &c. under the influence of low spirits; but I think there you err.[69] A man’s poetry is a distinct faculty, or Soul, and has no more to do with the every-day individual than the Inspiration with the Pythoness when removed from her tripod.”

[Footnote 68:  Having discovered that, while I was abroad, a kind friend had, without any communication with myself, placed at the disposal of the person who acted for me a large sum for the discharge of this claim, I thought it right to allow the money, thus generously destined, to be employed as was intended, and then immediately repaid my friend out of the sum given by Mr. Murray for the manuscript.

It may seem obtrusive, I fear, to enter into this sort of personal details; but, without some few words of explanation, such passages as the above would be unintelligible.]

[Footnote 69:  My remark had been hasty and inconsiderate, and Lord Byron’s is the view borne out by all experience.  Almost all the tragic and gloomy writers have been, in social life, mirthful persons.  The author of the Night Thoughts was a “fellow of infinite jest;” and of the pathetic Rowe, Pope says—­“He would laugh all day long—­he would do nothing else but laugh.”]